Unsent
by CCMolly
Summary: ONE-SHOT  Sherlock leaves his phone at home after a little argue with his friend who's about to get married. John can't resist the temptation and wanders through Sherlock's unsent messages. He might find something very interesting there...


I looked at my friend as if he weren't Sherlock Holmes, the cold blooded, only consulting detective who used to laugh at my failed attempts of finding a nice girl that could eventually become my lover.

He looked at me as if he knew what I had been thinking until that very moment. He was sipping of his tea when I finally broke the silence between us.

'You know this doesn't work like this. You can't require me— this. It's crazy.'

'My dear John,' Sherlock said in a low voice, with a serious look, 'If you weren't here all this time, I would have probably received a Nobel prize, which is probably the worst thing that could ever happen to me and my work. You kept me still when I had to be so, and you let me wander through corpses and grotesque cases the way you let a dog walk free in the park. Please.'

'Jesus, Sherlock!' I cried out exasperated. 'You can't just—what are you planning on? Bond me so I can't leave Baker Street?'

Even though I asked the last question in a rhetorical voice, I heard him mumbling 'I actually could', but I decided not to comment at all.

Sherlock stood up too, looked me in the eye and smirked.

'You're selfish! I gave you the most terrifying adventures and cases which reminded you of war. You miss the war, John, not a restricted life.'

I laughed irritated but hesitated to look at him.

'Marriage isn't a restricted thing. It's true, though, I won't be able to wander these streets as much as I used to do it along you. But I'll sign up as a medical doctor, l'll rent an office and luckily I'll have some patients. You're being selfish if you want me just for you.'

'It's not for me,' Sherlock pouted. 'It's for the bloody cases, I got used to having an assistant. Someone needs to appreciate my work from time to time, and you've done your best using all the possible forms in the English language. I'm still waiting for you to learn Spanish though.'

He expected me to laugh. He looked at me like a strained puppy for a couple of moments, then set his face to the window.

'I'm going out, have fun around' he said imperiously.

'I'll just pack my stuff,' I muttered and Sherlock got out.

He was already crossing the street when I realised he had forgotten his mobile phone on the coffee table. Strange, though, Sherlock doesn't usually forget his things around. The QWERTY key-board suddenly tempted me. The screen. And just thinking of what Sherlock's phone could hide. This was a once-in-a-life chance. Forgetting about all the sweaters, decorations and pairs of socks I had to pack in, I took the phone and unlocked it. This was even stranger, even people like Mrs. Hudson had their phones locked just in case.

I pushed one button and the menu page showed up. Pictures, music, messages, games, internet. He had a score of 34928 points at Tetris, one picture of Irene Adler and three of the Big Ben, five songs by Bach and one by Chopin, and 423 messages, 158 of which were just drafts. I opened the Sent folder but closed it immediately. 160 characters messages in which Sherlock was giving Lestrade the main suspect and a few clues. The Received folder was full of messages from Irene Adler, and the Drafts one was full of messages… to me.

I've never received a message from Sherlock, and why, for the sake of God, would he save 158 unsent messages? Too emotionally attached? I opened the first one, nervously.

_I've never thought such ugly sweaters would fit you so nice. –SH_

I thought it was a joke, as Sherlock never commented anything on my clothing style. "Would fit you so nice?" Was Sherlock drunk when he wrote this or was it a tiny green man from outer space who had replaced my friend? I moved onto other messages, but skipped about fifty in which he was worshipping my eating style, my writing style and basically me.

_Please stop smelling like that, I swear I'm about to eat you and your ugly reindeer print sweater. –SH_

Sherlock was either a cannibal in disguise or an alcoholic.

But I was aroused.

_You've just taken a shower. And you're wet and wait a moment, have you shaved your legs? This does things to me, you know? –SH_

I was confused, but in a good way. But the good way confused me a bit more, and I ended up with my heart beating faster and me scrolling down Sherlock's drafts archive.

_I've upset you and I'm sorry. I would make you a cup of english tea, but we ran out of milk and I like how you come home after having a row with the machine at the store. You're just LOVELY. –SH_

Lovely? Make me a cup of tea? I had to sit back down, to avoid falling on the floor. I tried not to laugh histerically, but I couldn't resist. Sherlock was being childish and I was surprised of his attitude. I still thought he was drunk when he wrote these.

_I've seen you today and you looked sad. I knew that, if I asked you what's wrong, you would turn your back upon me and ignore me and shout at me for being so annoying and careless about everything. Maybe I'm annoying. But I do care about you. –SH_

I was numb. I knew Sherlock cared, but I hadn't thought he would care that much about me. I've actually never permitted myself to feel more than compassion about Sherlock. I thought marrying a nice girl that is Mary would probably restrain my feelings, the painful heartbeats I had every time me and Sherlock were in the same room, the lust I felt every single day.

_It's so tough for me to explain everything to you. I want you so much every night, every time you go to sleep I imagine myself in your room, watching you rest. It's not about the physical attraction. I would just stand there. And stare at your calm face, at the little smile you give the dark surroundings. They are as dark as a winter's night, John. I'm afraid. I've never been more afraid in my entire life, and it's not even about me. It's about losing the person I'm most fond of, who right now is with his future wife, planning the last details of his wedding. –SH_

I was undone. Despite everything that's been between us, the good times and the less good ones, the one when he almost died, the one when he defended me, the one when we both laughed off our problems – there was something more I hadn't been aware of until then. I felt it in my heart as if it has been there forever. My fingers were trembling when a pushed the button to the next message.

_I envy Mary. She's such a charming lady, isn't she? I don't even want to come to your wedding. I'm most afraid that she will make you tea better than I. –SH_

I laughed while a tear slipped on my cheek. Certainly, I had finally discovered the true Sherlock, the human one.

_You taught me what a sentiment is. And now I know what is called the emotion I have towards you. –SH_

I bit my lips as I stood next to the fireplace, having flashbacks about my life before Sherlock and during our friendship. From the lonely man with nothing good in the fridge and a wounded leg, to the man who defied criminals, death and who learnt how beautiful life can be when you're not alone.

I skipped a few more messages, until I got to the last one, which was saved that day in the morning.

_I would like to say 'I will wait for you to come back, forever'. That's how long an immortal man or a super hero can wait, isn't it? But I've told you once I'm no super hero. Therefore, I will wait for you to come back, until the end of my days. –SH_

_P.S.: Neither am I immortal I think, but I am about to find out. If willing to save my life, come to St Bartholomew's Hospital. If not willing, still come. I'm too young to pass away._

The emotional impact the first part of the message had on me vanished when I read the second part. I stood up, got my coat and hoped to find Sherlock alive. I found a cab near Baker Street and begged the cabbie to rush to St Barts' Hospital. My heart was pumping fast, just thinking about the _possibility. _Sherlock was insane. And in love with me. And insanely in love with me, which I could barely fully understand. But I knew I had to be next to him, for now and for the rest of my life.

I thought for a moment what I would look like if he died. I couldn't. I couldn't think of myself without thinking of him too. He was now an extension of my own body and soul. We were the two halves of a whole and I hoped his half wasn't already broken.

I got there at the right time. I saw him on the rooftop, looking down on the streets. I paid the cabbie and rushed to make Sherlock see me.

I screamed, I gesticulated and he finally saw me. Even though he was far above me, I could see him smiling and breathing relieved.

'Thought I wouldn't come?' I asked him as he got out of the hospital.

'In fact I was worried you would read every single message and I'd have to wait there forever. D'you know how cold it is there?' he frowned, but his voice was amused and full of joy.

'Next time don't be so subtle. Forgetting your phone, seriously? Not original,' I pouted laughing as I jumped on him, hugging him. 'You're a bastard.'

'You're getting close, too,' he smiled at me and I handed him his phone. 'After all, if there's something I have learnt… You're curious and you care too. And I'm coming to your wedding.'

My face suddenly darkened. The wedding, the bloody wedding. Mary, what would she say? Oh dear, I'm leaving you. Is she nicer than me? Oh no, it's actually a man, my best friend.

'Uhm, yes, the wedding. Could you help me handle it?'

'My dear John, my lies are the best in this country. The Queen hired me to invent some pretty lies so she wouldn't go to some tea party. Brilliant lies they were, I may add.'

And then I did something I hadn't thought I would ever do. I kissed his lips, gently and softly. He pressed his lips spontaneously and we stayed like this for a couple of good seconds.

We parted smirking at each other.

'Mrs Hudson can finally lend the second dormitory,' Sherlock noticed. 'How would you like a cup of tea, John?'

'A cup of tea would be lovely, quite lovely. We need to make up a good lie for Mary. And… I'd like to know if you're a snorer. I could treat that, just in case.'

Sherlock giggled as we headed for 221B Baker Street, happier than ever.


End file.
